Logs:Of Clipboards and Capture (Or, "Psionic" Self-"Defense")
| Of Clipboards and Capture (Or, "Psionic" Self-"Defense") | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 2024-05-13 << don't you wanna see how this plays out??? >> |
| Location
<XAV> Dallen, Roscoe, Spencer, and Sriyani's Dorm - XS Second Floor | |
What was once a generously-sized double-occupancy room (or a reasonably-sized triple room) is now a terribly cramped quadruple room, furniture arranged somewhat bizarrely to provide each of the residents a bed, a desk with a hutch, a dresser, and some closet space. It's not intuitive which desk goes with which dresser goes with which bed -- maybe even less so when taking into account the hodgepodge of decorations, which includes quite a lot of mess -- nerd stuff, weeb stuff, theater kid stuff, art stuff, leftist stuff, Jesus stuff. Roaming the floor like a Roomba is a spidery little robot, not quite a Sentinel, but perhaps a touch too similar for comfort. There is a brightly colored blown-glass mezuzah mounted vertically in the doorway. Roscoe didn't get back to school until late on Sunday, and though most of the school has headed to breakfast by now, he brought a plate back to his room from the kitchen, and is already mostly finished with his meal, carefully pressing some last bits of scrambled egg off his plate with the tines of his fork, sitting in his desk chair with his feet pulled into the seat with him. He might still be wearing pajamas -- he's wearing a brightly designed JoJo tee (a little too big for him) and bright red basketball shorts -- or he might just dress like this. His hair -- thick and straight and black -- is still an awkward growing-out length, combed flat over his forehead. Should Kavalam have knocked? It's possible he knocked, and equally possible he did not, but he is currently now perched cross-legged on Roscoe's bed. He's still in pajamas, soft flannel pants and an oversized tee shirt in Indian Cricket ODI colors and logo. He's munching on half an English muffin that still has small flecks of scrambled egg left on it, and gesturing to the other guest Roscoe (definitely) (probably?) didn't have when he started breakfast. "We need the best hiding place," is not quite good morning, and yet. Tok had probably very quickly grown used to the fact that no one could see them, and was using that to their full advantage. They’re currently perched on the ground, poking at the spidery robot on the floor with their claw, tail stuck straight up in curiosity. They’ve probably got a thinning stained shirt, and some cargo shorts, both now newly cleaned with access to a sink. They’re no longer covered in dirt thanks to the shower, but their hair is still wild. Their attention is drawn once Kavalam talks, looking at who he’s addressing, “Oh shit! Can he see us?” They wave at Roscoe with a grin full of sharp teeth. “Hi! Cool room!” Roscoe does not seem overly surprised by this intrusion -- he doesn't even look up from his eggs as he says, "Best hiding place for what," before lifting his head and fixing Tok with a squint, "-- oh." There is no smile in return -- he puts the last mouthful in his mouth and pinches his eyebrows down, giving Tok an up-and-down surveying glance. "None the cool stuff is mine," he says, then shifts slowly in his chair to address Kavalam on the top bunk, putting his feet on the floor. "I won't snitch," he says. "Most my hiding places are for smokes and food, lol. Why are we hiding this guy? Who are we hiding him from?" "He's very small," is Kavalam's immediate reply to this. "Fur can squish." He finishes off the muffin, leaning forward to frown down at the others with his hands laced together and elbows on knees. "I don't know, really. I think he wants to steal things." Kavalam sounds quite unconcerned about this possibility. "Mr. Summers was grilling him in the library only. Nobody should have to deal with that. And besides he claimed very barefaced he was testing the security here, I am very curious now about that experiment." Tok nods in encouragement, “Yes yes! I am very small, I can fit anywhere!” From the floor, he puts his forearms down and does a back bend into standing, nearly bending his back in half. “Ta da!” He rocks back and forth on his heels, eyes darting around the room to take as much as he can in, “Maybe testing security involves uh…removing certain over the top decorations from this particular campus for inspection! Very legit business model. OH OH! If you guys help me, I could give you guys a cut even.” He jerks a thumb towards Kavalam, “Ghost kid’s already helped me enough so he’s got a shoe-in for that cut.” Roscoe looks from Kavalam to Tok, with a brief but toothy smile at this acrobatic trick. "Sure, that seems very scientific," he says. "Who needs a double-blind study or a control group when you have a sucker and a clipboard." There may be no clipboard in sight, but Roscoe is giving Tok a calculating stare anyway, propping one elbow on the back of his chair. He ticks a questioning glance up at Kavalam, at 'ghost kid', but doesn't ask; he gives Tok one curt nod. "I will accept cash only," he says magnanimously. "See. Pocket gremlin." Kavalam's head has tipped to the side as Tok goes all bendy. His eyes widen slightly like he's Kind Of Impressed -- not that he's about to say so. "We do not have a clipboard. Should we get a clipboard." He swings his legs over the edge of the bed in preparation for jumping down, though he doesn't, yet. "Just so you know, I am being very-truthful about the telepaths. Maybe I should get a clipboard and a stopwatch. They will hear your terrible brain soon enough." “Nuh uh! Telepath repellent, remember?” They tap their temple. “Worst case I gotta get the hell outta dodge. EITHER WAY it’ll be fun!” They giggle in their excitement and their tail waves back and forth to match it, “I’m pro clipboard! As a wise man once said, Only difference between fucking around and science is writing it on a clipboard! Or something like that. Anyways! Can’t get in trouble if we have a clip board.” They’ll hop on closer to Roscoe and stick out a hand to shake on it, “You’ve got a deal on the cash by the way. What d’you do? Is it as cool as Ghost Kid’s? OHOHOH I’m Tok by the way!” They rapidly say, stumbling over their words like they can’t get it all out fast enough, still holding their hand out. "I have a stopwatch," he does not, he has a phone with a stopwatch app, but Roscoe produces this from his backpack on the floor and sets it face-up on his desk. He's very hesitant to shake Tok's hand, staring a moment too long at the claws, but when he does his handshake is firm, if a little fast, and he lets go quicklike too. "Roscoe," he says. "I spy. What's your telepath repellant, I used to have one but I don't think it worked very well." "He thinks about really gross stuff. 100% effectiveness rate as he has not to his knowledge encountered a telepath before." Kavalam says this very deadpan. He's hopping down off the bunk. "I need to pee. Should we start your stopwatch now. How quickly can you hide him." Tok doesn’t seem to mind the hesitation all that much, but his grin does perk up more once Roscoe does shake his hand. “Listen if I was a telepath I know I wouldn’t want to be hearing all that.” He says confidently. His confidence does waver slightly when Kavalam says he’s leaving, “Oh. Wait! Right now? Oh geez!” They start doing stretches to prep, but they can stretch far further than normal so it probably looks almost cartoonish? Maybe kinda freaky. Maybe their shoulder full on pops out of their socket as they stretch. “Better be ready to wait a while! No way I’m getting caught. And next time we try this you should totally let me borrow your Ghost Kid stuff instead. Will be way easier!” They rub their hands together in excitement. “I’m ready whenever!” Roscoe bolts more upright in his chair as Kavalam hops down -- "Aw come on," he complains, in a tone of deep grievance, "I have class soon!" But he gets to his feet, kicking sourly into a pair of Adidas slides, hovering one finger over the START button on his stopwatch app and then, on second thought, just starting it before he can forget to. "It'll be faster if we go now while everyone's eating," he says -- his eyes are flicking up-down-left-right, each time he turns his head. "Can you try to be less conspicuous. Maybe..." his distant, assessing look fixates with slightly more intensity on Tok, and he frowns. "Uh... stick your tail in your pants or something." "I thought inviting him to watch me pee would be a bit awkward only. Besides," Kavalam says with with a gesture towards Roscoe's phone, "I think he will be caught well before your class. -- perhaps you should start thinking your terrible thoughts, now." And then, there is no more Kavalam, even the thought of him slipping quietly away from the others' minds. Tok goes to wave goodbye to Kavalam, “Hey!! It was great meetin…..See you la….”. They frown, and shake their head. Tok shakes their head one more time and narrows their eyes at Roscoe, “You think shoving my tail into my pants that’s nearly 70% the size of my entire body is gonna be LESS conspicuous??” They huff, “I thought this was a mutant school. Why do i gotta look different..” Despite their complaining, they begin to mess up their hair with practiced ease to cover their horns, some of their ears, and they drag a sweatjacket out of the backpack they’ve been carrying. They zip it up over their tail. They look…maybe a LITTLE normal? Like if you only glanced at them really really quick you might not notice... and if you didn’t look at their eyes or their very sharp teeth. It’s clear they’ve done this before. They wrap their tail around their waist, even if it moves around occasionally. They spread out their arms, “THERE! How’s that?” In the meantime, Tok is SPAMMING gross thoughts. They’ve seen a lot, unfortunately, and have a lot of content. The worst is what comes out of their imagination though, truly disturbing. << Lotta mutants still have eyes. >> This doesn't come from Roscoe -- it's a heavy thud of feeling that drops hammer-heavy into both the kids' minds. The voice that comes along with the uncomfortable mental whumph is grumbly, a little bit smoker-raspy, an odd bastard accent that definitely does not sound American but is difficult to place, past that. << And you're right about one thing, kid, don't nobody want to hear that shit. >> "Even here you stand out. I thought you said fur can squish," Roscoe counters, although now he is frowning down at the other teenager -- did Tok say that? Roscoe has no Telepath Defense -- his thoughts are loudly complaining << why me why me why meeee >> that Yet Again he has found himself playing jungle guide to some total stranger, << (never beating the Short Round allegations) >> which manages to be both whiny and smugly self-satisfied until -- Roscoe winces, physically, at Hive's interruption, but mentally he has the urge to catch, to fold himself around the force. He knows, somehow, to hit the stopwatch -- "Lol, not even ten seconds," he says, trying to lob back, << don't you wanna see how this plays out??? >> Tok flinches at the sudden voice, eyes widening and their ears flicking all over as if they can track down the source of the noise. They grip at their head, attempting to comprehend, before putting together what had happened. Tok’s eyes light up and they go “AHAA!!!!” At the validation from Hive. “I told you it would work!” Was it Roscoe who said it wouldn’t? It must’ve. They hop excitedly in place, like a boxer preparing for a match. “Cmon cmon!!! We gotta go right?! I can squish into places not squish my fur away! This has gotta be good enough.” << Sure, yeah. >> Hive is agreeing with Roscoe, almost amiably, excepting that his << this kid's too fucking dumb to be alone out there anyway, do him a favor to get caught by Chaz. >> can be clearly heard by both the kids as well. "Dude, you got caught," Roscoe says a little too gleefully, waggling his phone with the unimpressive time at Tok and grinning broad and toothy before he goes to the door, grabbing his backpack off the floor (he is now reasonably confident he's getting to class on time.) He restarts the stopwatch, shakes his head, his eyes ticking up-down-left-right before he opens the door; in his mind the mansion is sprawling in front of him like a pixelly JRPG maze, complete with Final Fantasy theme music, and he is just excited to see how far he gets with the two lives they have remaining. "Try act like you belong," he says blithely -- his stride down the hallway is very casual. "Or don't, it prob'ly won't help you anyway." Tok gasps in mock offense, “I ain’t dumb! I just struggle to learn in structured environments! That’s what Ma always said.” They watch Roscoe carefully, clearly searching for something. They follow closely beside Roscoe once he starts walking, shoving their clawed hands into their pockets and keeping their head down. A big smile is still plastered on their face that they can’t help hide. “You got someplace special in mind? A super secret room behind a book case? A trap door that leads to a fire pole all the way down into a bunker beneath the school? OHOH A closet? The vents?? The possibilities are endless.” "A closet? Gimme some credit." Roscoe is going to a corner tucked unobtrusively beside a bookshelf in what looks like a cross between a common room and a study; he peeks over his shoulder (updownleftright) then tilts his head at an odd angle at the floor before he produces a slim, sturdy hunk of plastic of indeterminate origin from -- uh, somewhere -- and levers open a narrow panel of wall; behind it is a steep, narrow staircase winding through the wall, unlit save for cracks and peepholes that point out toward other rooms. Roscoe presses one finger to his lips, shhh, and -- A faint flush of warmth -- not the sort of thing most people expect from a drafty secret stairwell of indeterminate depth, though in any case there is no attendant movement of air -- washes over Roscoe and Tok. The disembodied voice they hear this time has a gentle and clear English accent, familiar enough to Roscoe, at least. << What do you suppose you are doing? >> The question is more curious than accusatory, and "sounds" as though it were spoken by someone sitting right beside them -- though, weirdly, not any specific side. Tok mouth hangs open at the opening created, and they laugh in disbelief, “Roscoe, you are officially the coolest ever. I owe you.” They whisper as they make the motion to begin slipping through….. Tok yelps at the sudden voice, looking around side by side to try and pin where the voice is, and grabs at their head. <<FINAL TELEPATH REPELLENT DEFENSE…..INITIATE! BABYYY SHARK DOO DOO DOO DO DOO BABY SHARK->> Tok looks at Roscoe and winces, “Damn. You weren’t lying about the telepaths.….BUT HEY! Lasted longer on round two! HONESTLY I count this as an absolute win.” They tilt their head as they consider the hole, or just surrendering to the telepaths, “…..We’re totally screwed though huh?” Roscoe does not look terribly startled by this second interruption, though internally now he is seizing with a real, clenching fear that his parents will be mad at him and he has no idea what the fuck compels him to do things like this, but he pushes that away for now and just stops the clock again, holds his phone up so Tok can see this also unimpressive time. He seems to have decided that the voice is coming from above, for he's tilting his head up and back to address the Professor aloud -- "Just going to class," he says brazenly, then adds just a tiny bit goadingly, << Hive caught us way faster. >> | |
